


Hidden Within

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Animal Instincts, Blood, Dubious Consent, Fight Sex, M/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 17:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Hank hates what he's become but Erik wants to encourage it.





	Hidden Within

**Author's Note:**

  * For [citrinesunset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/gifts).



The mansion was too quiet – and also too loud.

Since ... changing, Hank had found hearing noises a very different experience than it had been. Everything was louder than it had been and he found himself focusing on things that he never had before. He could hear the wind outside all the time, even when the windows were closed. If he were outside, he could hear rustlings of animals that were metres away. When the workmen were on the other side of the mansion, he could hear them. When Charles was watching TV downstairs, he could hear it.

He was finally getting used to it, or he thought he was. As much as he could get used to any of this.

Sometimes, Charles helped him numb it with his telepathy but Charles was away, having another operation on his spine. Hank hadn’t been able to go with him. Hank was stuck here, just like he was always stuck here because of the thing that he had become.

A growl escaped his throat and he quickly stood up and began a well-trod path around the lab, taking deep breaths as he did. Charles had suggested it, taught him the breathing exercises after the third time he’d accidentally destroyed something because he couldn’t control his emotions properly any more. It helped, most of the time. Whenever he felt himself losing control, he paced and breathed and hated that he could feel his hideous fur standing up on end.

He was a monster. No matter what Charles said, no matter what he told himself, he was a monster. He couldn’t leave the mansion. He couldn’t let people see him. Every time workmen had come in to prepare the mansion for its transformation into a school, he either had to hide or rely on Charles to use his mental powers to make him look normal. When the parents came, he’d probably have to hide. When the students came ...

He was desperately hoping he would have perfected a serum by then. 

Charles believed in him. Charles was so kind, so reassuring. He told Hank that he would do anything that he needed, offered up suggestions, even held his hand when Hank failed again, seemingly not scared that Hank might hurt him. He never got angry when Hank destroyed something – accidentally or on purpose, depending on how frustrated he was. He’d just been ... wonderful.

Another strong emotion came over him, one that he liked even less than the rage. He wasn’t going to think about Charles ... like that. He _didn’t_ think of Charles like that. It was just that Charles was a friend. A very good friend. They’d been alone together for a while, that was all. Things were ... confusing when you didn’t see other people. That was all. It didn’t mean anything. Of course it didn’t mean anything.

Maybe he should just go to bed. They hospital had said there wouldn’t be any news for a long time. Unless something went wrong. But nothing would go wrong. They were a good hospital, the best. Charles was paying a lot of money. It would be fine. Absolutely fine. He didn’t need to worry. He could go to bed and relax and in a few days, Charles would be home and they’d be putting the finishing touches to the place to make it a school and he’d have made a working serum and everything would be fine. Just fine.

With a soft sigh, he got up again, shuffling out of the lab, making sure to lock it behind him. He was trying to get into the habit so that by the time other people were living there again, it would be second nature. He didn’t want – 

Someone was in the mansion.

He could smell them, the unique smell of a human being and a familiar smell too, though not somebody he’d been around enough in this new condition to really recognise off-hand. He didn’t like the smell though. His fur was prickling, standing up on end and Hank had to pause to stop himself going into an on all-fours sprint to attack, to fling this interloper out of his territory.

_I am not a monster. I’m a man. I will not behave this way!_

He moved slowly, deliberately, following the smell. He could hear them now too, moving quietly through the mansion. Looking? Trying to find something to steal? One of the workman, maybe? Perhaps that was why he only partially knew the scent ...

He rounded the corner and saw a figure standing beside Charles’s door, a familiar figure with a horribly familiar helmet over his head.

“Hello Hank,” Erik said.

Hank snarled. He couldn’t keep it back. To see Erik here, again, Erik right in front of him after everything ... he wanted to jump on him, grab him, smash him into the wall ...

He gritted his teeth together, breathed as deeply as he could through them. He had a horrible feeling that Erik was _amused_ , certainly he was smiling, though perhaps he didn’t know Hank could see. Hank’s night vision was much better than it once had been.

“I wanted to see Charles,” Erik said, as though this was _normal_ , as though everything was fine and they were just chatting over one of Charles’s cups of tea.

“He’s not here,” Hank said, hating the growl he could hear in his voice. “He’s having an operation. Another one. Because of what _you_ did.”

Erik paused, seemingly confused. He shifted slightly but Hank wasn’t sure if he was trying to move away or move closer.

“It was an accident,” he said at last, his voice quiet.

Hank couldn’t stop another snarl tearing out of his throat.

“An _accident?_ And was it an accident that you murdered those other men? That you’ve been _hurting_ people? That you left us to die?!”

“It was more complicated than that, Hank.”

Erik sounded maddeningly calm and Hank couldn’t stand it. He lunged, leaping down the hall without even thinking about what would happen, just wanting to grab Erik, smash him, rip his head off ...

Erik seemed to sense the danger. He dodged, far more quickly than Hank would have expected. He had to catch himself, slamming his paws against the wall to rebound off it, knocking pictures off the wall as he tumbled down.

“That was impressive,” Erik said and he sounded _admiring_ , more admiring than he ever had before. “You’re much stronger, much faster ... ”

“I don’t need _you_ to tell me that!”

“Does Charles tell you?”

Erik’s words made Hank’s stomach twist. He snarled and Erik smiled again, a sadder looking smile.

“No, of course not. Does he still encourage you to hide yourself?”

“ _Hide_ myself?” Any distress turned back to anger; easy, blazing anger. “You don’t know what it’s like! How can I let anybody see me like this? I can’t even go to the hospital with my _friend_ because I’m a _freak!_ ”

“ _No_.” Erik sounded almost savage. “You are _beautiful_. Don’t let anybody tell you differently, Hank. You are magnificent this way.”

And oh, how Hank _hated_ that a part of him responded to that. To be told that he wasn’t a monster, even though he knew full well that he was. To have someone say that he looked beautiful, impressive ... not a freak, not disgusting.

Even though he knew that he was. He was horrifying. And Erik was lying. Again.

He sprang at Erik again, snarling, hating. Erik brought his arms up and Hank felt the air around him stir, knew that Erik was throwing something metal at him. He threw out his arm, scraping his claws down Erik’s cheek before he felt the pain of sharp metal objects slicing his sides.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, of course. Erik didn’t know about how much his fur stuck out. It scratched but it didn't do more than that and Hank twisted again, this time grabbing hold of Erik's wrists.

Erik didn't seem to mind so very much. In fact, he _smiled_ , as though what Hank was doing was pleasing. Hank felt another surge of animal rage. He couldn't think properly. He wanted to scream and savage and bite …

“Oh, Hank,” Erik murmured. “Why do you hold back?”

“Because I'll rip your fucking head off!”

His voice didn't sound like his own. Nothing sounded right any more. Nothing felt right. Erik was underneath him and for a moment, Hank thought about what he could do, what could happen, the blood, the cracking of the bones … and it was exciting, God, it was exciting and he didn't want to be excited but his body was surging ...

“Go on,” Erik whispered. “Go on, Hank. You beautiful, powerful thing … ”

“Stop it!”

“No.”

Hank wasn't going to hurt him. He was going to hold himself back. He was strong, stronger than this. Erik couldn't make him do anything. Erik couldn't drive him to do anything ...

Erik kissed him.

Hank stopped moving. He couldn't take in what was happening. Erik's mouth was on his and it had been a long time, a really long time and Erik felt … good.

Erik was still kissing him. He reached up, stroking a hand through Hank's fur. Nobody had stroked it before. It sent strange tingles straight through him and he tried to growl but it came out a strange sort of rumble.

“You're so beautiful like this,” Erik said against his mouth, lips moving against Hank's. It made him tremble even more. “Why do you deny it, Hank? Why don't you see it?”

Hank was finding it harder to remember anything except what was happening to him. The anger was surging and swirling and turning to something else, a fascinated longing. He wanted. He _wanted_.

He kissed Erik again. He kissed him with teeth and tongue, clawing at the clothes that Erik was wearing. Erik simply kept touching him, running his fingers over Hank's shoulders, combing through his fur, delicate, easy touches that made him feel even more. He lifted his legs and Hank tore at his trousers.

He hadn't really touched himself since he'd changed. He'd _looked_ at himself for as long as he could bear, then he had tried to pretend that he had never seen himself. That everything was fine and that he'd be fine when he healed.

Now he was feeling it, feeling everything and it was _wonderful_ and he wanted nothing more than to feel more of it.

“God, you're magnificent,” Erik whispered in his ear. “Don't be afraid of hurting me, Hank. I'm not afraid.”

“Should be,” he grunted and then he was thrusting and Erik made the most wonderful crying noise, arching up, his fingers knotting tight, tight into Hank's fur. 

“ _Hank_ ,” he said roughly and Hank bit his shoulder, tasting the blood, liking it, wanting more of it, wanting more of everything …

He lost track of time. He lost track of everything except the pleasure, except the feelings, except the sound of Erik's delightful sounds.

When he came, it was sudden and hard and overwhelming. He dimly felt himself collapse against Erik, half-crushing him, feeling the warmth of him, the delicious warmth …

He didn't know how long he lay there. He slowly became aware of himself again, very slowly, throughout his body. He could hear Erik breathing, feel him shaking slightly and that helped him remember what he'd done.

A wave of cold washed over him. Then a feeling of sickness.

He wrenched himself away. Erik gave a low groan of pain at the sudden movement and Hank felt a burst of shame. Oh God. Oh God, what had he done? How could he have done that?!

Erik was sitting up slowly. He smelt of blood and sweat and sex and a part of Hank still responded to that in a way that he desperately tried to thrust away. He could see the scratch marks that he'd left behind, see the bite marks on the shoulders and one particularly clear one on the arm.

He whimpered and Erik gave him a sharp look.

“Oh Hank. Don't regret it. What you did was natural. It was - ”

“Shut up,” Hank snarled. “Shut up, shut up, shut _up!_ Just … just _leave!_ We don't want you here! We will _never_ want you here!”

Erik smiled. It was almost a sad smile, almost regretful – as though Erik could ever have feelings like that, as though he could ever understand ...

Unable to bear it any more, Hank sprang up and fled.

He hid in his lab. He hid there for a long time. He didn't want to come out. He didn't ever want to be seen again. Charles had said he wasn't a monster but Erik had known better. Erik saw what Hank was. Erik had dragged out what Hank was inside and had made it real.

Hank needed to hide it. He needed to hide it forever.

But he did come out, of course. He had to. Charles would be coming home. Everywhere needed to be tidy, to be clean, to be perfect. And there was the next batch of serum to try.

Maybe if it was perfect, Charles never, ever had to know what lay within.


End file.
